


a tall tree, with roots like a newborn

by chali



Series: take me down easy [1]
Category: One Piece
Genre: Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Nakamaship, Past Child Abuse, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Post-Whole Cake Island, Sanji Is Not A Vinsmoke
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-18
Updated: 2020-12-18
Packaged: 2021-03-10 02:55:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,605
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27947159
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/chali/pseuds/chali
Summary: “This is where you belong,” she said behind him, in a voice so quiet he might have missed it had he not been so nervously attuned to her presence in the room. He froze, and had to swallow thickly before he could answer her in a voice that was choked nonetheless. “I know, Nami-san.”“If you know,” she continued in that same low voice, “then why did you leave in the first place?” Sanji dropped his gaze, and made to turn back to his cooking, but she grabbed his arm and held him in place. Reluctantly, he raised his eyes back to hers. “Why did you leave us?”---A closer look at the immediate aftermath of Whole Cake Island, because Sanji went through some shit and it was not nearly addressed enough.
Relationships: Brook & Vinsmoke Sanji, Monkey D. Luffy & Vinsmoke Sanji, Mugiwara Kaizoku | Strawhat Pirates & Vinsmoke Sanji, Nami & Vinsmoke Sanji, Tony Tony Chopper & Vinsmoke Sanji
Series: take me down easy [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2095365
Comments: 14
Kudos: 216





	a tall tree, with roots like a newborn

When Sanji had asked if he could make the crew some food, he had allowed himself to expect _some_ enthusiasm, but the outright jubilation that his tentative suggestion had garnered was ridiculous. Though as he stood alone in the ruins of his once pristine and sacred kitchen, he supposed it wasn’t difficult to imagine what they had been making do with in his absence. He sighed, and ran a tired hand through his hair, but couldn’t even muster up any fake, let alone genuine, fury to direct at his captain - for he had no doubt at all in his mind that Luffy was behind this. All he felt was the same giddy relief and overwhelming love that had settled in his chest from the second Luffy had said those words - _“we’re here for you”_ \- and hadn’t abated even slightly since.

Smiling slightly, breathing in the familiar smell of the galley, of the kitchen, of _home_ \- he got to work. Most of the crockery was beyond saving, and the majority of his pots and pans had dents in them that Franky would have to sort for him when they arrived at Wano, but Sanji made do, and after giving them a quick clean in the sink - he deliberately avoided looking too closely at the pot that had been sitting in the sink already, not even wanting to know what the mysterious black substance coating its insides consisted of - he had six plates lined up neatly on the table.

He had started slicing scallions when he heard the galley door opening, and he turned to see Nami standing by the table, looking at it with an unreadable expression on her face. Sanji turned back to the chopping board before she turned her gaze to him - she had smiled at him, during the fighting, and things had seemed to clear between them. But now, with Whole Cake Island and Big Mom and the _Vinsmokes_ gaining more and more distance behind them, Sanji found that he wasn’t entirely sure where they stood; he could still feel her slap, even amongst all the heavy bruising hidden under Reiju’s mask. He could still see her tearful eyes, hear her terrified screams. She had every right to still be furious with him.

“This is where you belong,” she said behind him, in a voice so quiet he might have missed it had he not been so nervously attuned to her presence in the room. He froze, and had to swallow thickly before he could answer her in a voice that was choked nonetheless. “I know, Nami-san.”

And he did. He always had. “I’m sorry,” he added, and heard her sigh. Her footsteps were heavy as she marched up behind him. He dropped the knife on the chopping board and turned to face her glare. She stood in front of him, arms folded, brows furrowed, mouth a thin, angry line. Sanji met her gaze as firmly as he could.

“If you know,” she continued in that same low voice, “then why did you leave in the first place?” Sanji dropped his gaze, and made to turn back to his cooking, but she grabbed his arm and held him in place. Reluctantly, he raised his eyes back to hers. “Why did you leave us?”

“I didn’t really have much choice in the matter, Nami-san. You know that.” 

“But why did you do it _alone_?” She insisted, her voice rising slightly in almost desperate anger. “Why didn’t you take us with you-”

“Would you have led any of us into Arlong’s grasp?” The words had escaped him before he had even really thought them through. Nami sucked in a harsh breath, her eyes widening and the hand that wasn’t maintaining its vice grip on Sanji’s arm making an aborted movement towards her tattooed shoulder. Sanji winced apologetically, but continued, “I’m sorry, Nami-san. But you wouldn’t have - I _know_ you wouldn’t have, because no matter how strong you know your nakama are, or how confident you are that we would win against him, that doesn’t change the fact that Arlong was - he represented something-” he let out a short huff of frustration, struggling to find the right words, but Nami beat him to it.

“Dark. Something dark, and terrifying.” 

Her grip on him had loosened, but her hand remained where it was on his upper arm. Sanji looked into her eyes and, finding a new understanding there, nodded.

“Exactly. And that’s not something you want to even _risk_ inflicting on the people you love. My family - the Vinsmokes… they’re my Arlong. They’re that - that _stain_ in my childhood, that thing that marks every decision I make, because what they did was too awful not to leave a trace.” He moved again, and this time Nami didn’t stop him, only dropped her hand to her side. Sanji picked up the abandoned knife and resumed his chopping. “I didn’t bring you with me because I didn’t want to have you - _any_ of you - near people that I knew were capable of so much cruelty. And I - I _really_ didn’t intend to stay. I had planned on getting there, telling them to fuck off, and then coming back - things just got out of hand really fucking quickly.” 

He stopped talking and hunted out a wok that was still intact, if a bit misshapen, slowly starting to fry the rice and the scallions while trying to ignore Nami’s eyes following him and the anxiety the prolonged silence was causing him. Finally, Nami spoke again, and there was no longer any anger in her voice, only a sad sort of recognition.

“I understand,” she murmured. “We all do, really. I just - wish you hadn’t - I wish-”

“I know.” 

They lapsed into silence again, as Sanji added the prawns. The smell of the food was making his mouth water - when was the last time he had eaten? That horrid meal with the Vinsmokes, days ago? He didn’t know for sure, the past few days were a bit of a haze to him at this point. All he knew was that he was suddenly famished. He turned to Nami where she was still standing, and smiled warmly at her when she met his eyes. Something dark seemed to melt away from her gaze and she smiled back at him.

“Could you go tell the others the food is ready, please, Nami-san?”

“I’m amazed Luffy hasn’t burst in already,” she responded, her voice carrying some of its usual playfulness. Sanji’s smile widened, and he started to turn back to the stove - but before he could Nami had stepped over to him and wrapped her arms tightly around his shoulders. He froze, feeling what felt like all the blood in his body rushing to his head. Hesitantly, hardly daring to believe his luck, he raised his own arms to return the hug. Nami was the one who broke it off, of course, and she grinned at whatever dumb expression was on Sanji’s face before saying, “Careful, or it’ll burn,” which abruptly brought him back to his senses. Cursing, he spun back around to lift the sizzling wok from the flame. He listened as Nami’s footsteps retreated back to the door, and heard her pause when she reached it.

“We love you too, Sanji-kun.”

When Sanji placed the food in front of his waiting nakama he had a grin on his face that would rival Luffy’s sunniest.

* * *

The meal went well. Everyone ate as though it was their first meal in weeks - Sanji would know - and Luffy insisted it was the most delicious food he had ever tasted. Sanji wondered if it were true or if he was just that happy to have his cook back. He barely tasted the food himself. After his first few bites he was suddenly overcome with a wave of exhaustion so acute he was sorely tempted to succumb to sleep right then and there at the table, in spite of his being just as famished as the rest of them. Instead, he finished his meal, loosely followed the conversation taking place around him, and, when everyone else had eaten their fill apart from Luffy (still shovelling down every morsel of food in sight), began gathering plates and removing them to the sink.

"Right then," came Chopper's satisfied voice as Sanji lifted away the last plate. "Everyone needs to come in for a check-up, after a battle like that. Luffy, you first, I need to bandage your side properly."

Luffy huffed and puffed as he always did when informed of an impending visit to the infirmary, but everyone knew there was no real steam to it, and before long Chopper had led their captain by the hand through the door at the end of the galley. Nami, smiling fondly, followed them after Sanji politely but firmly declined her offer to help wash up.

Carrot left not long after, while Sanji was half-way through washing the pans he’d used. She said she was going to the crow’s nest, to keep watch in case they had been followed - but Sanji noticed the way her voice shook, and the quiet that had descended upon her as the meal had ended. He had been puzzled for only a moment, a short and blissful moment, before reality caught up to him and he’d remembered. _Pedro_. Pedro, who was dead. Pedro, who had died because of _him-_

“Are you okay, Sanji-san?” Brook asked quietly behind him. Sanji became abruptly aware that he had stopped in his tracks at the thought of their fallen comrade, and quickly started scrubbing plates again.

“Of course,” he replied, trying to sound sincere. He finished the dishes quickly and in silence, then he and Brook followed the others into the infirmary.

When they entered, Luffy was seated on the counter, fresh white bandages just visible through the shirt he was struggling to button up with hands just as heavily wrapped. He looked up pleadingly at the sound of the door opening again, and Sanji rolled his eyes fondly as he stepped over to help the younger man, trying very hard to ignore the edges of deep purple bruises edging out from under his bandages.

Chopper was applying some sort of salve to Nami’s hands and wrapping them, too, and Sanji felt ill as he remembered what Luffy had told him: that he and Nami had had their hands nailed to the wall behind them. He had seen Luffy’s wounds as he had eaten the horrifying picnic basket Sanji had made for him, and had felt a fury so intense it burned.

“Okay, I think that should do for now,” Chopper said as he stepped away from Nami and hopped back onto his chair. “Sanji, you next.” Sanji jumped a little, so caught up in his anger and guilt that he had forgotten to dread his own examination, under the watchful eye of his captain and crew. He swallowed thickly, and almost started to decline - but one stern (a mild word) look from Chopper had him shuffling away from Luffy and onto Nami’s vacated spot on the bed before he’d even realised what he was doing. Chopper nodded approvingly. “Shirt off.”

They were all watching him expectantly, showing no sign of leaving to give him some privacy, and Sanji knew better than to ask for some. There was nothing for it. He wearily began unfastening the thick pearl buttons on the dress shirt the Vinsmokes had provided. Feeling the thick fabric beneath his fingers, he said absently, “This will probably sell for a lot, Nami-swan.” Nami blinked, seeming surprised.

“Really? I’d have thought you’d want to keep it. It’s a really good shirt, and with a wash and a bit of mending-”

“I don’t want to keep anything they gave me.” He denied firmly, in a voice perhaps a tad harsher than he’d intended, if the way Nami’s mouth shut so quickly her teeth could be heard clacking together was any indication. Of course, that may also have been because Sanji had finally reached the last button and had pulled the shirt away from his chest, revealing just as much bruising as Luffy had obtained in his battles.

Sanji dropped the shirt to the floor, and immediately wished he hadn’t so that he had something to occupy his trembling hands. He was very aware of how still and silent everyone had suddenly become, and refused to meet anyone’s eye, staring resolutely at a point on the floor next to Brook’s boot.

“ _S-Sanji_ ,” Chopper’s voice was hoarse and quiet, shaking with emotion. “You - when did this happen? We - we wouldn’t have let-”

“It happened before you even arrived,” Sanji replied in clipped tones. At some point he couldn’t recall his brain had decided that complete honesty was the best course of action. He couldn’t tell yet whether he’d regret it or not.

“But who-” Sanji snorted bitterly, still not looking at anyone.

“It wouldn’t be a Vinsmoke family reunion without my blood on the floor, would it?”

“They - your _family_ did this?” Nami asked, her voice steady but low with a fury that Sanji hadn’t heard since Arlong Park. Sanji wished they would stop asking him questions. He wished they would stop calling those people his ‘family’.

“My brothers,” he replied dully. No one spoke for a long moment, as Chopper finally snapped out of whatever daze he was in and sprang into action, searching through his drawers for more of the ointment he’d used to treat Luffy and muttering to himself about things he’d need to restock on at the next opportunity. Sanji sucked in a harsh breath as Chopper gently prodded his tender flesh, but managed not to flinch, already hating that he was inflicting such misery on the poor doctor. The little reindeer moved around behind him, and he felt a hoof gingerly come to rest on the most tender spot on his back. He remembered Niji’s knee, charged with electrical current, digging into his spine with the force of a cannon ball. He gritted his teeth.

“Is there anything else?” Chopper asked him as he came back into view, making a brave attempt at returning to a professional tone of voice. Sanji wanted to say no, to leave this horrible situation where it was and move on - but he couldn’t. He wondered if he’d ever be able to lie to his nakama again, even to protect them.

“There’s… something,” he said, flashing a nervous look at Chopper and risking a glance at the others. Luffy’s face, he noticed, was carefully blank, and he was staring at Sanji’s chest as though he didn’t really see it at all. “It - I don’t really know…” Sanji sighed, and raised his hand to the top of his face, deciding to get this over with as quickly as possible.

“Sanji-kun, what…” Nami seemed very confused as to why he was suddenly poking along the top of his forehead, but when his nails found the fine edge of the mask and began peeling it off, her voice trailed away once again into horrified silence.

“Oh, my,” Brook gasped, and Chopper made a small wounded noise in the back of his throat that made Sanji turn and reach out to him on pure instinct, holding a shaking hoof gently in his own trembling hand briefly before returning it to his lap. He didn’t say anything; he knew what his face looked like. He considered the renewed swelling, and was at least grateful it seemed to have gone down a bit in his cheeks. He hadn’t forgotten how Pudding had mocked him.

“They did this, too?” Sanji looked up. It was the first that Luffy had spoken since Sanji had come in, and his voice was just as flat and emotionless as his face remained. Sanji met his eyes, and nodded solemnly. “When?” 

Sanji blinked. “When?” he repeated dumbly. “Does it matter?” Luffy nodded, his eyes roving over every single one of Sanji’s injuries as though committing them to memory.

“I want to know,” Nami tried to shush him but he ignored her. “Did this happen before or after our fight?” Sanji gritted his teeth, and looked down at his hands. He realised he was still wearing the cuffs, and felt a wave of weariness so heavy he felt close to tears. _Yet another horrible thing to tell them_ , he thought resentfully.

“ _Sanji_.”

“Before,” his voice came out as barely more than a croak. He cleared his throat and tried again. “It happened - they did it before. Reiju gave me the mask so that I didn’t turn up to meet Pudding looking like this.” Nami gave a sharp gasp of realisation and her hands flew up to her mouth.

“I-I slapped you! Y-Your face - it was already-” Sanji smiled at her as warmly as he could.

“Oh, don’t worry about that, Nami-san. If ever I deserved a slap, it was then.” But Nami only shook her head furiously, not lowering her hands.

“Wh-what are those?” She asked, in a scared voice, as though she already knew the answer would be just as horrible as everything else. She was pointing at the cuffs Sanji had been fiddling with. He swallowed painfully, wishing she hadn’t noticed.

“They’re…” he began, and found he couldn’t find the words. He could excuse the beatings, the humiliation. He had grown used to them years ago. What he couldn’t excuse, and what still filled him with a deep, awful dread, was the threat to his hands, to his cooking, to his _dream_.

“Sanji,” Nami spoke again, voice shaking at his prolonged silence. “What are they?” Sanji’s voice was as hoarse as hers when he answered.

“They’re cuffs,” he said, once again resorting to glaring a hole into the floor rather than witnessing the looks on any of their horrified faces. “Like - like the collars. At Sabaody.” 

The silence seemed to stretch for a long, long moment. Nami slumped into Chopper’s seat like a puppet whose strings had been cut, and Sanji saw Brook rest a bony hand on her shoulder out the corner of his eyes. Chopper was sniffling miserably behind him while steadily applying more ointment to Sanji’s bruises, and Sanji might have tried to comfort him had he not been seconds away from tears himself. He opened his mouth to try for some kind of consolation; to explain that Reiju had swapped them out at some point, so there was no risk anymore - but before he could make any kind of sound the door opened and slammed shut quickly. When Sanji looked up along with everyone else, Luffy was gone.

Sanji blinked, quite honestly surprised. Everyone looked at each other in silence for a few moments, before Brook announced, “I’d better go check on him. Don’t want him tearing our dear Sunny apart, yohoho…” With a weak chuckle, he left, shutting the door far more gently than their captain had.

Chopper continued to work in silence. Circling Sanji slowly as he tightly wrapped bandages around his torso, Sanji had a clear view of his tearful little face. He smiled reassuringly every time Chopper looked up at him, but from the way his features only crumpled further, Sanji guessed that the swelling rather ruined the effect. 

Nami was silent and still until Chopper had tied the last bandage over Sanji’s chest and sewed the last stitch on his shoulder - a wound he had all but forgotten about, given everything else. When Chopper finally stepped away, she came over and sat next to Sanji on the bed, eyes once again full of understanding and sympathy and love. He looked into her face, and almost revealed the rest of it - but he didn’t. He didn’t want her to know everything, not yet.

And she didn’t. None of them knew _everything_. None of them knew that the entire time Sanji was there, in Germa, with the Vinsmokes, the one thing that had truly kept him in constant terror was not the beatings, or the taunts, or the hatred, or even (though he despised himself for admitting it) the threats against his loved ones, really. No. What he had feared most from the moment he had heard that name spoken by Bege back when he’d received the invitation was the idea of returning to the _cell_. 

That dark, cold, dirty cell he had spent almost an entire year of his childhood in. And even worse than that - the mask. That mask… the feeling it brought of having been reduced to something less than human, something unworthy of a name, or a face, or recognition... He didn’t doubt for a second that it had crossed their minds - he guessed that one of his brothers would have suggested shoving Sanji back into the monstrosity, and only the necessity of him appearing healthy and strong for Big Mom stopped their father from agreeing.

Sanji thought about all of this as he looked into Nami’s tearful face, and knew that things were different for him now, and they would probably stay that way for a long time. He saw sleepless nights and weighted days ahead, and felt that exhaustion start to pull him under again. He pushed it away, trying once again to muster up a smile for his nakama.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered, and Nami shook her head, taking his hand in her own. He clasped it tightly, not having the energy for anything more flamboyant.

“Me too,” was all that Nami said, and she held onto him as Chopper returned and set to work on his face, mumbling quiet apologies every time Sanji failed to hold back a wince. It didn’t take Chopper long, which Sanji was immensely grateful for. He felt like it all he could do not to pass out immediately onto the bed and sleep until they reached Wano - but that exhaustion vanished completely a few seconds later when the little reindeer announced, with no small amount of panic in his voice, that he couldn’t get the cuffs off.

“What do you mean?” Nami asked sharply, her grip on Sanji’s hand suddenly painful. They both looked down at the little reindeer struggling with the gleaming metal bands. “Just - is there not a - a key, Sanji-kun?” She sounded as if the very words themselves pained her. Sanji shook his head, feeling ill.

“Big Mom has them,” he said in a shaky voice. “But it’s okay,” he added quickly, seeing the utter panic in their faces. “These are fake - Reiju swapped the real ones out at some point.”

“A-Are you sure?” Chopper asked worriedly, still staring at the cuffs as though they could explode at any moment.

“Very,” Sanji replied confidently. “If these were the real deal, they would’ve exploded the second I’d started fighting back. These are fake.” Nami and Chopper both breathed deep, shaky sighs of relief, and Sanji wished he could join them. The fact remained, however, that he was stuck in these horrors. Sure, they weren’t really explosives. But they felt just the same as the genuine ones, and the implication remained. In spite of himself, he forced his fingers under the tight gap between metal and skin, and tried to pry the thing loose, to no avail. He quickly gave up at the look on Nami’s face when she caught the action.

“Well, then, am I free to go, doc?” he asked, aiming for nonchalance. “I could really go a good sleep, if I’m being honest.” Chopper looked as though every fibre of his being wanted to say ‘no’ and keep him here in the infirmary, where he could have him under his watchful eye day and night. Sanji was grateful when he simply said, in a weary voice, “Yeah, I guess so, Sanji. But - just be careful, okay? And come back when you wake up so I can change your bandages.” Sanji smiled, and released Nami to open his arms wide. Chopper leapt carefully into the embrace.

“Thank you, doctor,” Sanji whispered to him, and he felt the little reindeer wriggle with joy, as he always did even after all these years of being the doctor of the crew.

Nami resumed her hold on Sanji’s hand as they made their way back into the galley, and Sanji was _sure_ he’d regret later not having savoured the moment properly - but the sight of his captain seated in the galley, his hat obscuring his eyes but his mouth visible where it was pressed into a thin line of discontent, pushed any and all other thoughts from his mind. Brook looked over at them from where he was seated at the opposite side of the table.

“Everything all right then, Sanji-san?” Sanji dragged his eyes away from the still silent Luffy to answer him.

“Yeah, everything’s fine. Chopper patched me up better than anyone else ever could.” They all smiled at the cry of “ _shut up_ , you rotten bastard~” that drifted through the open door behind them. “I’m, uh, actually just going to try get some sleep. I haven’t slept in days-”

“Why are they still there?” Luffy asked, so suddenly that Sanji actually jumped a bit, and felt Nami do the same beside him. Everyone looked at Luffy warily. He was staring at Nami and Sanji’s joined hands as though they had offended him, and when Sanji looked down at them questioningly, he understood.

“Ah, we couldn’t get them off,” he explained as calmly as he could. “But it’s _fine_ , Luffy, they’re fake ones. They won’t explode-” but Luffy had either stopped listening or simply didn’t care. His chair screeched loudly as he pushed it back and marched around the table until he stood so close to Sanji the brim of his hat actually brushed his chin. 

Sanji watched, speechless, as Luffy coated his hands in gleaming haki the colour of obsidian, slipped his fingers under the metal cuff on the wrist not occupied by Nami, and broke the cuff as though it were made of twigs. Nami lifted his other arm, and Luffy did the same with the other cuff. Sanji watched the things fall to the floor, broken and useless. He felt empty, utterly worn out, as the last dregs of panic left him. Luffy’s hands, back to their usual deep tan, grabbed either side of his face and directed it until he met his captain’s fiery eyes.

“You’re not a _slave_ ,” he said in the kind of voice usually reserved for the heat of a battle. “You’re not a slave, and you’re not some useless trading piece. And you’re _definitely_ not a _Vinsmoke_ ,” he spat the name out as though the taste of it on his tongue was sickening, and Sanji felt his love for his captain grow impossibly bigger. “You’re _ours_. You’re _Black Leg_ Sanji, of the Strawhat Pirates. Okay?” Sanji stared into his captain’s face, and nodded. Luffy gripped his head tighter, shaking it a little, and repeated, “ _Okay?_ ”

“Okay,” Sanji whispered, overcome. Apparently satisfied, Luffy released him, nodded once, firmly, then seized Nami’s hand from Sanji’s.

“Luffy, what-” he cut Nami off as he pulled her towards the deck.

“Sanji’s going to sleep now,” was all he said, and then the door closed behind them and Sanji was left standing in a dazed sort of stupor. Brook laughed softly from where he remained seated at the table.

“He’s rather incredible, our captain,” he said, sounding deeply pleased about what he had just witnessed. “Wouldn’t you say, Sanji-san?” Sanji snorted softly, but nodded as he began his slow journey to the men’s cabin.

“Yeah,” he replied softly, filled to the brim with adoration for them all. “Yeah, he really is.”

**Author's Note:**

> I have no doubt in my mind that I'll end up writing more about Sanji and WCI, I hate how quickly it ended. Hope you enjoyed, please don't hesitate to leave a review! Thanks for reading!


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